Get Up, Get Up, Get Up

Despite what you may have heard this is not the end. We've still got a ways to go and I'm going to need you to stop whatever you're calling that and get with the program. This isn't about you or me or us or some universal plea or need. This is when the fleshy soft bits hit the stone cold grit and you get up. You get up. You can pray out some empty echo and puppeteer yourself into action but it doesn't matter. You can think about how you'll tell your kids that this was the bottom and this is when you hit the wall and the only place left to go was up and if that puts one more foot in front of the other then so be it. You can turn off and think of nothing and concentrate on your breathing and try to find your inner will or some reservoir of hope and peace and tranquility but that's the shit that's going to get you killed. You lay down now and you're going to die. Not that that isn't an option available to you but you're here because you need help, or at the very least you wanted it and here it is. I'm not trying to get in your head or convince you you're loved because if you're here it means your not. The only reason I want the best for you is because it raises my credibility and some day I'm going to cash in. But mark my words: if you fail it is your fault. Now you can take some time for yourself or have a personal day or whatever it is you think you need to do but I'm telling you right now you better just get your ass up. You've made it this far and let me say, it's not that great a distance. There's a ghost ahead of you and you can barely pull it back in. Your shadow wants free of you so bad, you've been dragging it down so long and now you want some words of wisdom from me? Good luck, buddy. Just stay where you are and slip into the void. That was a little romantic, that's not really how it'll be. It's just going to stop. If that's what you wanted out of all this, why'd you even crawl up out of the goo? You're so fresh out of it your legs haven't developed, you're backside is all fish and scales and you have no business here. I want you to know that I do not care about you, nor do I suspect anyone does. You are breathing refuse. You are debris, that stubborn little something that hangs on to the rim for just an instant before being washed down the drain with the rest. You do not distinguish yourself from the rest and that's the worst part about you, all of you. You are some...soup of flesh and bones, you are genetically engineered to get the most meat out of you. There is not a moment of your life that someone doesn't have their hand firmly around your neck waiting for that instinctually right moment to crush your life and feed you to the churning, teeming horde. You little shit, now get up. Get up and at least acknowledge the stink and close your mouth. You'll lave a hard time convincing anyone you're not livestock with your mouth hanging open like that. Get up, get up, get up.